


Cosmic Balance

by Tarlan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vegas, Episode: s05e19 Vegas, M/M, Murder Mystery, SGA Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a murder occurs on Atlantis, Woolsey requests a civilian detective to handle the case, and who better than a Vegas detective who already knows all about the Stargate Program. As the investigation progresses, it draws John and Rodney closer together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosmic Balance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raphe1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raphe1/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Crime Fighters](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/23241) by sexycazzy. 



> With many thanks to my wonderful betas: **taibhrigh** and **aqualegia**  
>  I really appreciated all your comments and assistance.

  
Artwork by Sexycazzy 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What was that?"

On hearing the light yet sharp ringing sound ahead of them, Sergeant Bonaji had lifted a hand to stop Corporal Jannssen, and he dropped it now to let his fingers wrap around the P90 in readiness. No one was supposed to be in this area. It had taken the greatest impact during the storm several years earlier, having already flooded once when the city shields had started to collapse before Atlantis rose from the bottom of the Lantean ocean that first time. McKay considered this whole area to be structurally unsound and had made it off-limits on those grounds. However, remote sensors had picked up unusual activity that was likely just a few curious scientists looking for an amazing discovery all of their own, rather than joining the occasional city expedition to whatever had piqued McKay's interest.

It hadn't taken Bonaji long to realize that scientists could be as competitive and aggressive as soldiers on the battlefield, perhaps even worse. Some of the squabbles his men had broken up had been a lot more vicious than the stereotypical, limp-wristed slapping matches that he had expected to witness when he first accepted an assignment to the SGC. Arguing with a colleague seemed to be the default setting for most scientists, as witnessed daily whenever McKay was around, though few of the scientists ever held their ground for long when faced with McKay. The man was bitingly insightful, and he was knowledgeable of far more fields of science than the Astrophysics and Mechanical Engineering listed in his personnel file. Still, Bonaji had seen begrudging respect on McKay's face for those who did manage to stand firm against him, even if he did eventually prove them wrong.

He had seen the same respect reflected back at McKay from those willing to appreciate McKay's brilliance and tenacity, especially as the man had used those skills to save all of their lives on a regular basis. However, there were many others who refused to look beyond the arrogance and argumentative nature of the man. Those scientists - and soldiers - were often too caught up in their own delusions of brilliance to accept that McKay had good reason for making certain areas off-limits. Often they learned the hard way, and Bonaji had escorted more than a few body bags through the Stargate over the years.

The noise came again but as he pulled the handheld from his vest pocket and stared at it, nothing larger than one of those Pegasus mouse-like creatures registered - the ones that had nested in the areas of the city that was no longer swept clean of any dust or possible infestation by the Atlantis A.I. Jannssen looked over but didn't try to take the handheld from him, knowing it wouldn't work for her. He was one of the lucky fifty percent who had reacted positively to the synthetic version of the ATA gene - like McKay. He glanced at Jannssen, seeing the unease writ across the woman's strong Scandinavian features. A wisp of ash blond hair had escaped the band tying back her hair and she blew at it softly, not releasing her grip on the P90 held in her hands. They were standing at a T-junction, with only the beams from the P90's flashlights illuminating the corridor that stretched into darkness in both directions.

"It's coming from that direction," she murmured, indicating along the left hand corridor.

Bonaji nodded in agreement. He and Jannssen moved forward at a slower, more careful pace, letting the beams sweep along each side of the corridor from ceiling to floor until they caught a reflection from a partially opened doorway. Jannssen bit into her lower lip in what others might consider a nervous gesture, but Bonaji knew that was her 'thinking' face. Her eyes caught his and held for a moment, as they silently agreed that Bonaji would go first this time. It was his turn, after all.

Recalling an incident in the first year, where a breach of a damaged laboratory had released a nanovirus that killed several non-ATA personnel before McKay and Beckett managed to contain it with an EMP blast, he glanced inside carefully. The room seemed empty at first, but when he shone the beam from his P90 across the floor, it took a moment to realize he was seeing something dark splattered across the far wall. Playing the beam down to floor level, he swept back and forth until he caught the edge of an expedition-issue boot. Bonaji held the beam fully on the boot before traveling up the standard gray uniform pants that could denote scientist or soldier these days. Grey had replaced the science beige after too many attempts were made to abduct scientists from off-world teams. They had been too conspicuous, standing out against the military dressed in their blue-gray uniform.

Most of the body was hidden behind a single metal-like bench centered in the room but Bonaji was already aware that the person inside the room was dead from the lack of a life sign on the handheld.

"Dead body. Report it in, Jannssen."

The door was opened wide enough for him to slide inside and he approached carefully. As his beam reached the dead man's face, Bonaji stepped back with a curse. He'd seen plenty of dead bodies in the past - even ones desiccated by a Wraith feeding - but the brutality here was shocking. The right side of the skull was caved in, and the sole remaining eye was wide open, staring back up in disbelief as if the victim had never expected to die that day, and in such a brutal way.

Bonaji had seen that expression too many times before, mostly on those who didn't listen and let their ego lead them into danger - or death.

Deciding not to contaminate a possible murder scene any more than necessary, Bonaji retraced his steps back to the corridor to stand guard while they waited for McKay, Colonel Lorne and a forensic team. He had a strange feeling that this would not be an isolated incident.

****

From the threshold, Rodney stared around the Ancient laboratory as lights were carefully set up around the edge. The forensics team had already gone over the laboratory once using flashlights and ultraviolet light in the hope of picking up any evidence left behind by the killer, but now they needed more light to work. The body was still where Bonaji and Jannssen had found it, though Jennifer had placed a sheet over it to offer a little dignity to the dead man.

Jennifer glanced up from her datapad and gave him the sort of careful smile that summed up their relationship these days. He twisted the wedding band that he had yet to remove from his finger. Jennifer had removed hers once the divorce was made final months earlier, and he knew she was already seeing someone else. She spotted his nervous twisting and gave him a pitying glance. It was not as if he harbored any desires for them to get back together, especially as he had been the guilty party in their marriage breakdown. He couldn't even blame it on work, just on an itch that she didn't have the physical means to scratch.

Rodney sighed softly and let his hands drop to his sides. He saw the ring as a reminder of his failings, and knew he wasn't quite ready to let go of the guilt and move on. He was entirely at fault for the whole marriage fiasco. He had known from his teenage years that his tastes ran to both men and women, and experimentation at university had proved that the pendulum swung more in favor of having another guy in his bed than a woman. When it came to Jennifer though, he had ignored all of that. She was beautiful, sexy, highly intelligent... and blond. She was everything he looked for in a female partner, and she hadn't been put off by his less than stellar attributes when it came to dealing with others of lesser intelligence than him. She was perfect in his eyes, and that should have been the first clue that it wasn't meant to be. At least, not for him.

It had taken months before he realized that neither of them was truly happy, and that they both wanted something that the other couldn't give them.

Rodney knew his feelings of discontent had grown exponentially from the moment he met Colonel John Sheppard from a parallel dimension. Sheppard didn't have Rodney's level of intelligence, not by a long shot, though he was certainly no simpleton or military grunt, but he had a presence that had drawn Rodney in like a moth to a flame. Rodney's fantasies had changed after that encounter, and he had found he missed the strength of another man's firm hand and blunt fingers, of sharp angles of bone instead of soft curves, and the pleasant ache of having another man thrusting deep inside him.

Trying to deny his needs had only led to arguments between him and Jennifer, with both of them finding fault with each other and drawing away until they were barely on speaking terms.

A chance meeting at an energy convention with a Russian scientist - a man Rodney had slept with while working in Siberia six years earlier - had led to reminiscing over too many vodkas. Somehow he had ended up in Pyotr Stanislav's hotel room, in his bed, with his body thrumming from the pleasure of having been fucked long and hard - and his mind torn between the guilt of betrayal and the relief that he had finally stopped denying what he needed.

He had told Jennifer, and watched in misery as she packed her belongings and moved into separate quarters on Atlantis.

Rodney was lucky Jennifer was such a good person, understanding what had gone wrong and not hating him when it was all over, though she had every right to do so. Instead they had parted amicably. Admittedly they were still a little distant with each other at the moment, but at least they had remained friends and had never let their marital problems and eventual separation impact on their working relationship. It was probably how it should have always been between them; friends and colleagues, and nothing more.

Jennifer raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Rodney realized he had remained silent too long. The soft covers placed over his shoes muffled his footsteps as he moved further into the room, and he took care to stay well away from any area marked out by the forensics unit. Doctor Agathera was crouched down by a wall splattered in blood, brains and slivers of skull, and Rodney knew enough about force and velocity to work out where the victim was positioned when he took that fatal blow to the head.

"We know who it is yet?" he asked.

"Doctor Donald Hansom. A metallurgist specializing in Ancient building materials."

"Huh."

Rodney couldn't place the man, but there were a lot of new faces on Atlantis these days, since the completion of the Carter-McKay intergalactic bridge between the two galaxies. What used to take three weeks on the regular supply run by the _Daedalus_ or _Apollo_ , was now a simple matter of stepping through the Atlantis Stargate to Midway, and then through the Midway Stargate to the SGC, and back. Standard safety protocols insisted on a twenty-four hour stopover for visitors heading to Earth, but returning to Pegasus was immediate as Atlantis had quarantine procedures in place to prevent any Earth-origin infection attacking the residents of the city and spreading across the Pegasus galaxy.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Pegasus-origin infections, and they had lost several good people from an attack of Kirsan Fever - a non-threatening childhood ailment to most in Pegasus. Their Athosian allies had saved them that time, with Ronon gathering the plants and herbs needed for a cure, and Teyla using her knowledge to make the cure and administer it.

He glanced down at the body and winced, seeing the blood seeping through the sheet and the obvious depression from a caved in skull.

"I'll just... leave you to it then," he stated softly, walking away quickly before he contaminated the scene by throwing up.

Woolsey was waiting for him when he got back to the Gate Room and he beckoned Rodney into his office.

"Rodney? What do we have so far?"

Rodney lifted his hands expansively.

"We have a dead scientist in a city full of soldiers and scientists. We are talking the best of the best. Yes, I'll even include the military in that assessment because the SGC isn't in the habit of selecting idiots for off-world postings." He paced a few steps before turning back to Woolsey.

"I'll ask Colonel Lorne if the military will bring in an investigation team," Woolsey stated, reaching up to tap his headset, but his finger stopped a few inches away when Rodney spoke up quickly.

"And the civilians will distrust everything they say and do."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Rodney shook his head. They had over two hundred scientists on Atlantis, and though all of them were at the top of their respective fields, none of them were trained to carry out an investigation into a murder. They could analyze the forensic evidence, tell him everything he needed to know about the angle and velocity of the blow that killed Hansom. They had psychologists and behavioral analysis experts who might be able to determine why it happened once they had someone in custody, but no one with the investigative skills and insights required to sift through the data to find the killer. Also, there was the slight problem of using their own people to search for a killer, making it easier for someone to cover up evidence.

"We need someone from the outside," Rodney mused.

"Someone like Detective Sheppard, perhaps?"

Rodney blinked in surprise, wondering why he hadn't thought of Sheppard immediately, especially as he had been thinking of his parallel universe counterpart not long ago. It made sense though as not only was Sheppard a trained detective, even if it had taken him two attempts to pass the detective exams, but he already had the necessary clearance and knowledge of the Stargate program after the run-in with the stranded Wraith in Vegas. Anyway, Sheppard had proved himself by finding the Wraith responsible for a killing spree in Las Vegas and buying them time to stop the Wraith from sending the coordinates of Earth to the rest of the Wraith in Pegasus.

"Yes. Someone like Detective John Sheppard."

****

Over two weeks had passed since the shoot-out in the desert with the wraith, and under any other circumstances, John would be either dead or still months away from getting back on his feet. Saving the world from ravenous monsters from outer space who - literally - wanted to suck the life out of every human on the planet, obviously had its perks. 

He could still recall the details so clearly from the time the first shot rang out until he lost consciousness en route to the hospital. He remembered the sound of jets in the distance as he lay slumped against the mustang; recalled the click of his empty gun as the creature masquerading as a human raised his weapon to finish him off, only to run back to the silver bullet trailer in a panic once it realized those jets were heading straight for them.

The mustang had protected him from the worst of the strafing that sent burning debris hurtling in all directions, but it brought back memories of another explosion. Memories had assaulted him of the overpowering stench of aviation fuel and blood, of the screams of the dying, of knowing how seriously he had fucked up and not only caused more deaths but hadn't even saved the one person he had cared about.

Holland was still dead.

Adrenaline - or the sheer horror of his memories - had pushed him to his feet, and he had staggered away from the mustang only so far before falling, rolling over to stare up at a harsh sun that reminded him too much of Afghanistan. In that moment he could have died in peace, knowing he had atoned for the deaths he had caused by his rash actions in Afghanistan, by saving countless millions that day.

It hadn't ended there though, and he let his thoughts drift back....

He heard the sound of an approaching helicopter but ignored it. It fitted in too well with the memories flashing before his eyes, and when the sun was blotted out by a man-shape hovering over him, John had simply put it down to that old memory too.

"Sheppard. Detective Sheppard. Stay with us."

He frowned because he hadn't planned on going anywhere. Except, yes he had. He'd taken the money and he'd been heading east, planning on starting afresh at the gambling tables in a new city like Atlantic City or New Orleans. He should have kept going.

His head had lolled as they carried him on-board the helicopter, and his eyes had moved instantly towards the cockpit. This is what he'd once been. A med-evac pilot. He missed flying, and would have taken any punishment the Air Force meted out as long as they had continued to let him fly. Even a glorified taxi-driver in Antarctica, but people had died, and it was all his fault.

"Hold on, Sheppard."

He could see the cloudless blue skies through the window - clear blue skies - and he let go.

"Don't you dare die on me, Sheppard!"

McKay? John wasn't sure why McKay's voice should feel so familiar to him after only one meeting, but the soft voice held a hard edge. Brilliant and demanding, and John felt a renewed flare of interest stir within him after years of apathy. He hadn't felt anything for so long, going through the motions of living while he danced on the edge of simply letting go of everything.

PTSD or survivors' guilt. He had heard all the terms and understood the psychology and perhaps a small part of him had even acknowledged that he could be suffering from either or both.

The shock of pain had left his body feeling numb but it returned full force now, and he opened his eyes wide to see a beautiful woman with short blonde hair standing over him. Her eyes were squeezed closed. A strange, intricate device was wrapped around her fingers, a jewel glowing in the palm of the hand extended towards him, and he could swear he could feel his torn body repairing cell by cell.

The woman stopped whatever she was doing before he was fully healed, falling away in exhaustion, and McKay had been there to catch her. His blue eyes filled with worry that encompassed both him and the woman, but he had turned to Keller.

"Jennifer? Was it enough?"

"Yes, Rodney. He still has some healing to do but he's out of danger now."

"Good. Good."

That was all John recalled until he awoke hours later with a dull ache in his chest and stomach instead of the searing agony of multiple gun shot wounds. The blond woman was gone, but McKay was standing by the window, staring out into the distance.

"Been there long?" His voice had felt dry and croaky, but it carried to the other man, jolting him around.

"What? No."

"Good. Because I'm sure you have more important things to do than watch me sleep. Even if I did save the planet."

McKay's slanted lips quirked into a reluctant smile. "So you did, Sheppard."

John reached for the water cup placed close at hand and took a sip of warm water, reveling in the way it eased his parched throat.

"All in a day's work for you though," John stated softly as he replaced the cup with trembling fingers.

McKay didn't deny his words, seeming to preen a little instead. "You gave us quite the scare, Sheppard."

"Who was she?"

"Huh?" Before John could describe the beautiful blond, McKay seemed to figure out who he meant. "Oh! Colonel Carter. She used a Tok'ra healing device to..." He waved towards John's upper body in a weirdly suggestive way.

"Heal me?"

"Yes. Well, no. Not completely." McKay's expression turned serious. "I just wanted to say... thank you. If you hadn't. Well."

John nodded, not needing eloquent words to understand what McKay was trying to say.

"I was right about one thing. You and that other Sheppard are not much different. Just a twist of fate between you... if I believed in such things." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. "I have to go now. I hope we meet again."

"Yeah. Me too."

John blinked as his thoughts returned to the present. Now it was him standing by the window staring out across the desert as he waited to be released, not that there was much to look at. McKay's people had airlifted him back to that installation miles from anywhere that he now knew to be the infamous Area 51.

Saving the planet seemed to have had more than the one benefit. All of his debts had been repaid in full - even the one to Mickey - and his job as a detective for the Las Vegas Police Department was still open, if he wanted it. He was a free man but for the first time in years he actually felt free, knowing that saving the planet had shifted some of the almost unbearable weight of guilt off his shoulders. Not all of it though. He couldn't entirely erase the guilt of his past mistakes but for the first time since the failed rescue mission and subsequent crash, he could see some light shining within his self-inflicted darkness.

"Detective Sheppard? Are you ready?"

John turned and nodded. The Air Force had made a small overture, offering to reinstate him but they wouldn't give him back the sky, so he turned them down. At least being a detective he knew he could make a difference rather than as a pen pusher in some military installation. He picked up his few belongings, mostly toiletries and a couple of Sudoku books, and headed towards the door. John had barely reached the end of the pale gray, utilitarian corridor before someone called his name.

"Detective Sheppard!"

He turned, frowning as an Air Force lieutenant jogged towards him.

"Yeah?"

"General O'Neill would like to speak with you, sir."

John had met O'Neill a few days back, and he liked the guy. O'Neill wasn't one of those martinets who couldn't think outside the book of regulations like some of John's former commanding officers. Yet he still debated for a moment on whether or not he wanted to hear whatever O'Neill had to say, and gave in with a soft sigh as curiosity won out.

"Sure. Lead on."

The lieutenant was casting hero-worship looks at him as John was led along different corridors to an area that looked as if it had been modernized recently. The color of the walls was softer and the flooring was of a kind that he hadn't walked on before. It was some sort of tiling and yet it didn't feel hard as stone beneath his feet. The wall of the office ahead of him was made of glass, and O'Neill was standing by it, waiting for him. As soon as John stepped inside, the glass became a smoky gray. O'Neill must have noticed his interest.

"Multiple settings from fully transparent to fully opaque... in either direction. I've set it to privacy both ways."

John nodded and sank into the seat beside the desk without waiting for an invite. After all, he was no longer military and didn't have to stand to attention and await orders anymore. A smile played about O'Neill's lips.

"We have a... situation on an off-world base that calls for someone with your skill set, Detective."

John straightened, intrigued as it had to be something big if the military was willing to step aside and bring in a civilian investigator. "A homicide?"

"Interested?" O'Neill phrased it as a question but from the way the smile on his face deepened knowingly, John knew his poker face must have slipped but he wasn't willing to throw in his hand just yet.

"Depends on where, and why me."

"Where is Atlantis. Why, is because Woolsey made the request."

Atlantis. That was where McKay was stationed, and he hoped the victim wasn't McKay.

"McKay?"

"Agrees that you may be the best man for the job. So, Detective?"

He was a little shocked at how relieved he felt just from knowing it wasn't McKay lying dead somewhere light years from Earth. 

"Yeah. I'm interested."

****

Rodney hated waiting for anything as he could think of far more productive things to do with his time - like saving two galaxies from the Wraith. Yet, for once, none of that mattered as his thoughts wrapped around a man he had met only four times in all, and one of those times it was an alternate universe version.

He knew he wasn't a good judge of character at the best of times but Detective Sheppard's actions in tracking down the wraith proved that he was not so dissimilar from the Colonel John Sheppard from that alternate universe. They shared the same traits of courage, resourcefulness, intelligence, as well as that self-sacrificial streak that probably left the other Rodney McKay tearing his hair out in frustration.

Although it pained him to do so, he freely admitted if only to himself that he'd formed a small crush on Colonel Sheppard, and had started out a little disappointed in the version in this universe, until Detective Sheppard went in all gung-ho and self-sacrificing to save the planet. Now he wasn't sure what he felt for the other man. He convinced himself that it wasn't love because that was the stuff of those stupid romance novels that Jeannie had enjoyed taunting him with before she went all starry-eyed over an English major. Not that he had ever read any. At least, not all the way through, and it was hardly his fault that towards the end of that first year on Atlantis, he'd been so desperate for new reading material that didn't involve real science, death, horror, or science fiction, that even Miko's romance collection had looked tempting.

His whole life seemed to be a science fiction story - filled with so many horrific ways to die.

As for crushes. He had a broken marriage behind him now, and the knowledge that if he had the urge to give his life over to someone else's keeping again, then he would be better choosing a husband next time around. If there was a next time.

He shook his head in annoyance. And why was he thinking all these romantic thoughts anyway while waiting for Detective Sheppard to arrive? It was a minuscule crush, not some epic love story. He wished Woolsey had assigned someone else to greet Sheppard, or maybe it wasn't too late for him to delegate this task to Radek? 

Seated at the gate controls, Chuck cast a slightly uncomfortable glance his way, as if he expected to be ejected from his seat at any moment. The thought of taking over the station had crossed Rodney's mind, but he had wanted to be free to head down the stairs as soon as Sheppard stepped through. Now he wasn't so sure.

The first chevron encoded, snapping his errant thoughts back to the Stargate, and to the soldiers spread around the gate room, waiting with P90s raised until told to stand down.

"IDC received from Midway. Lowering the shield."

Several people stepped through wearing expedition uniforms, and it took a moment to realize that Sheppard wasn't one of them. As Rodney slowly made his way down the main staircase, he could see equipment and supplies coming through as well, knowing it made sense to take full advantage of an open wormhole between Midway and Atlantis for the 38 minutes that it lasted, rather than wait for the scheduled dial-in tomorrow. He saw the soldiers tapping their radios and sending acknowledgments as they stood down, so Rodney took the final few steps to the gate room floor and grabbed the closest of the new arrivals.

"Where's Detective Sheppard?"

"Sheppard? Eh?" The guy looked around as if he could magically conjure Sheppard up from thin air, leaving Rodney sighing heavily in annoyance.

"Obviously, he's not here or I would have said _WHO_ is Detective Sheppard."

"You after me, McKay?"

The soft drawl right behind him had Rodney jumping and spinning on his heel in surprise.

"Oh! Yes. There you are."

Sheppard smiled and Rodney felt his insides melt - just a little. He glanced down from the spiky tips of the non-regulation hair and handsome face, surprised to note that Sheppard was in civilian clothing rather than wearing one of the standard issue uniforms. The soft slightly faded, well-fitted denim contrasted with his paler blue button down shirt and dark jacket. Desert boots finished off the outfit. When his eyes returned to Sheppard's face, he realized he'd been appraising the man in an almost inappropriate manner and felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment at Sheppard's knowing smirk. Without another word, Rodney turned and started off, heading back to the staircase only to stop when he realized Sheppard wasn't following.

"Come on! We haven't got all day."

"I'm fairly certain the dead guy's not going anywhere, McKay." Sheppard's smirk had risen to a lopsided grin. "And I'd kind of like to take a moment to... absorb the ambiance."

"Absorb...? What?" Rodney looked at Sheppard in confusion, wondering if maybe the man was still high on pain meds.

"Wormholes through space? Mythical lost cities of alien origin in another galaxy?"

Of course, Rodney thought. It was easy to forget that it was _this_ Sheppard's first time through a Stargate, and his first sight of Atlantis.

"Well. I guess I could-."

"Yeah. I'm ready now. I want to see the body first, and then I need to see the scene of the murder."

Thrown off-balance again, Rodney sighed. "Right. Um. This way." 

As they entered the transporter, Rodney reached out to touch the back panel, and slapped down Sheppard's hand when he reached out too, suddenly remembering that the alternate universe Sheppard had the ATA gene naturally, so there was no reason why this Sheppard would be any different. What he didn't know was how strong he had the gene. Cornell in Botany was so weak that they'd had to boost his natural ATA with the artificial gene therapy, while O'Neill could make Atlantis sing and dance to his tune. Rodney's own artificial expression of the gene was actually stronger than most of the natural gene carriers, strangely enough, but he put that down partially to the force of his personality and strength of mind.

"O'Neill did tell you not to touch anything?"

"Maybe."

"Yes. Well. Don't touch anything."

Sheppard backed off a step with both hands raised placating as Rodney selected their destination. The doors opened immediately and Sheppard looked impressed as he stepped out into another part of the city. Much to Rodney's surprise, as he hadn't paged her yet, Jennifer was waiting for them when they reached the morgue. She stood next to a med-table holding what Rodney could only presume was Hansom's body hidden beneath a sheet.

"Jennifer?"

"I heard Detective Sheppard had arrived and assumed he'd want to see the body first."

Was she flirting with Sheppard? he thought.

Rodney hovered a few feet back as Jennifer pulled back the sheet. He looked away quickly, recalling why he had never been interested in the medical sciences except where they intersected with mechanics or nanotechnology. All that gore. A quick glance back showed Sheppard leaning over the body, examining the caved in skull.

"Any idea what did this?"

"Fracture patterning on the bone implies a cylindrical object with a circumference of around 12 centimeters."

"Metal? Like a pipe?"

"Possibly."

"Or conduit tubing," Rodney added. "The Ancients used conduit in secure areas that fits those dimensions." He moved a little further into the room, grimacing when his eyes automatically went to the body laid out on the examination table. "Right hand side is caved in, so if he was facing his attacker, then the attacker was probably left handed."

"Or they had a mean back swing," Sheppard added, and looked to Jennifer. "Was it an upward or downward stroke?"

"Upward."

"So the attacker was either smaller than Hansom, and left handed, or-."

"Had a mean back swing," Rodney finished.

"Tox screen?" Sheppard asked

"Negative."

"Can I have a copy-?"

"Of the full report?" Jennifer smiled. "I'll send it to you."

"Thanks." Sheppard nodded and, with a half smile, he walked past Rodney and out of the morgue. Rodney followed on behind. "Now I need to see the crime scene."

"Right."

***

Ever since John stepped out from that first weird rotating ring on Earth into the Midway station, he'd felt a strange tickling sensation at the back of his mind. It wasn't uncomfortable or even annoying, just disconcerting, and it had grown in strength since setting foot in Atlantis. It was like someone whispering just within hearing range where you couldn't quite make out the words, just an impression of what they were saying. He felt as if it wanted him to reach out and touch things, as if they were calling to him.

O'Neill had told him to ignore the eerie vibes, and he hadn't understood what he was talking about until now. He'd told him to resist the urge to touch anything without checking with McKay first. As his hand was slapped away from the cool panel at the back of what looked like a closet at first sight, he started to get the picture.

He had a gene that Atlantis liked, and O'Neill had mentioned that there was a mental component to it too. You thought something ON and it came on; you thought OFF and... yeah. He had the impression from O'Neill that OFF sometimes didn't happen fast enough. John shoved his hands deep into his pockets to help fight the urge to touch.

The body was no worse than many he had seen in his life. Med-evac in Afghanistan had dulled that edge of horror. He'd watched medics load up kids screaming themselves hoarse, with half a leg or arm missing. He'd seen bodies scraped off the road from stepping on or driving over land mines placed to cause maximum damage. It was never a pretty sight but he'd grown immune to the blood and gore, able to look beyond it like a doctor, nurse... or pathologist. He assessed the damage to the victim, firing off questions that were answered competently so he could start to build a picture in his head of the attacker.

There were still too many variables so he needed to see the crime scene next.

The transporter took them most of the way there. John glanced around as he walked along a corridor that would have been magnificent once but now was grimy and smelled dank, as if it had been underwater at some time. Coming from L.A. and being an enthusiastic surfer, he knew the smell of old salt water.

"Atlantis. The city that sank beneath the waves?"

He glanced around pointedly, and saw McKay give a wry smile.

"When we first arrived, the city was underwater but the shield protecting it was collapsing. This area ended up outside the shield. It later got swamped again during a massive storm, before we had a ZPM to raise the shield."

John nodded, even though he would have to use his imagination to picture what McKay was talking about. "A Zed-PM?"

"Zero Point Module."

John watched as McKay went on to explain what a ZPM was, with appropriate hand gestures, seeing the excitement make his blue eyes sparkle. McKay had a passionate intensity for his work that seemed to brighten even this dull-lit corridor. John frowned, except the corridor was getting brighter. He could see the lights behind the panels pulsing feebly as if attempting to power on fully. He thought about them even more and the light intensified for a moment before something overloaded, plunging them into near darkness.

"Huh! Guess that was bound to happen sooner or later," McKay stated. John heard him fumbling around, blinking when a strong beam of light panned across the corridor. "This way."

Even before they turned the last corner John could see a glow ahead of them, and he realized it was coming from a room just a few more feet down the next corridor. He paused on the threshold and took in the lights placed strategically around the room, that were being powered off a portable generator of some kind. he stepped into the room carefully, taking in the layout and knowing instinctively where the body had been found by the high velocity blood splatter across the floor.

"This amount of blood... the attacker would have been splattered too."

John narrowed his eyes as he crouched down, snapping on gloves even though the forensic team had already gone over the area.

The arc of the spray implied Hansom was sitting or kneeling when he was attacked. Someone had carefully traced an outline for where they found the body. He imagined different position scenarios but the only one that fitted was if Hansom was kneeling, facing slightly away from his attacker. Still, it would have had to have been a fairly powerful swing to lift Hansom off his knees and throw him backwards into that position.

"Why didn't you make a run for it? Or didn't you see the attacker until too late? What were you looking at?"

McKay had drawn closer as John murmured his thoughts out loud. He knelt down beside John, close enough to brush shoulders with him, obviously curious to find out what John was looking at.

That urge to touch was almost overpowering, and he gave into it, figuring McKay would stop him if he deemed it necessary. Slowly, he reached towards the strange metal bench placed in the center of the room and pressed part of the ornate design etched into its surface. It slid back to reveal a hidden compartment but inside was something that was all too human. Carefully John removed it and held it up.

It was a black notebook with a Pegasus on the cover - the symbol for the Atlantis Expedition.

***

Rodney looked over Sheppard's shoulder as the detective carefully opened up the cover. There was no name inside but the scrawled penmanship was familiar.

"I know that writing. I've seen it before but..."

As Chief Scientist most reports crossed his desk in one form or another, most were computer generated documents or emails, but in the lab it was not uncommon to see notes and equations scrawled over whiteboards. His personal lab space had a dozen boards where he was working on several problems simultaneously, sometimes bringing in some of his less incompetent people to argue through ideas and solutions. Most started off timid enough but eventually their egos got the better of them and they would be at the board scrubbing through parts of his work and adding their own, and he would retaliate in kind until they had something amazing and theoretically possible to take to the next step.

It wasn't Radek's writing. He'd recognize Zelenka's chicken scratches anywhere, nor was it Kusanagi's near perfect, tiny lettering that only seemed to lose its uniform size when her passion for her work overshadowed her timid nature. He closed his eyes and a caught the flash of a face. A woman. Young. Smiling in excitement as they pushed the boundaries on discovering the chemical composition of some of the Ancient materials used to build the city, postulating ideas of nanotechnology and...

"Dumais."

"Dumais?"

"Doctor Helena Dumais. She... died during an outbreak of a nanovirus. Ruptured saccular brain aneurysm above the visual cortex, caused by nanites, tiny little machines that deliberated targeted non-ATA gene carriers. We lost a number of people after one of the infected managed to escape quarantine."

"How did you contain it?"

"An EMP... Electromagnetic-."

"Pulse, to knock out machines... cell phones, cars."

"We used a HEMP. Detonated one of the Mark IV generators in high orbit over the city."

"Like Operation Fishbowl."

"Huh! Yes. I suppose..." Rodney stared hard at Sheppard. "I'm surprised you've heard of-."

"Former US Air Force helicopter pilot."

"Of course. You'd have needed to be aware of any weapon that could knock you out of the skies."

"Yeah."

"Do you still...?" Rodney pointed up.

"Fly? No."

Despite his lack of social skills, even Rodney could read the bitterness in that single word. He spoke softly so his words would carry only to Sheppard. "But you'd like to."

Sheppard gave him a sharp look before standing up. "I've seen all I need to here."

He followed Sheppard from the crime scene, intrigued that Sheppard knew exactly how to retrace their steps despite so many of the corridors in this part of the city looking so similar. On the few occasions when he faltered momentarily, Rodney almost stepped up but Sheppard had a strange look on his face as if he was concentrating inwards on something, and then moved on in the right direction. When they reached the transporter, Sheppard reached out before Rodney could stop him and touched the area closest to the mess hall. The door closed and opened a moment later, and Sheppard stepped out without any hesitation, only faltering when the door to the mess hall slid open in front of him.

"Sheppard?"

He looked confused. "I was thinking of coffee... and a turkey sandwich."

"Right. Well, you've come to the right place."

Minutes later, they had commandeered a table on the balcony looking out along one of the water channels to the ocean beyond. The majestic towers and spires of Atlantis rose on each side, clustered mostly at the center of the snow-flake design of the city; while smaller towers and buildings eventually flattened out into the piers that were large enough to take even the _Daedalus_. It was an amazing view of a beautiful city and Rodney could see the appreciation of that beauty reflected in Sheppard's hazel-green eyes.

He looked away quickly when Sheppard turned back to face him, not wanting to be caught staring at the handsome man who had already turned heads as he walked across the Mess Hall. Admittedly, that could be because of his casual clothing, or because gossip traveled faster than wormhole travel in this city. Less than six hours had passed since Lorne's men stumbled across Hansom's body, and news of the murder had quickly swept the city, stirring up fears alongside idle speculation.

"I need whatever surveillance you have on that part of the city."

"That's going to be difficult because there isn't any. That part of the city is off-limits to all personnel due to the instability of the area following the flooding."

"Then why were Bonaji and Jannssen sent out there?"

"Remote sensors recorded unusual activity." He saw Sheppard's eyes narrow in interest. "Heat signatures only." He grimaced. "We occasionally have problems with new arrivals wanting to go exploring on their own."

"Looking to make a name for themselves?"

"Possibly." One of Sheppard's eyebrows rose. "Fine, probably. A few seem to believe I'm holding back on exploration teams so I can take full credit for any finds."

"And are you?"

Rodney straightened. "The last time we wandered around the city without taking full precautions, we ended up with fifteen dead. And almost lost Zelenka. The only thing that delayed his brain exploding was his proximity to an Ancient device Beckett was using to diagnose the virus. Others weren't so lucky."

"Beckett?"

"Carson Beckett. Head of Medical Science here on Atlantis."

"I thought Doctor Keller-?"

"No. She's his deputy. Carson's on Earth visiting his sick mother."

"So, no surveillance."

"No."

"Yes."

"What?"

"They had to use one of those transporters to get to the area, and I bet all the main areas are under surveillance."

"There are 582 scientists and 254 military personnel stationed on Atlantis at this time, and like Las Vegas, this is the city that never sleeps."

"Means, Motive and Opportunity, McKay. The three basic tenets of a crime. I have a hunch that _this notebook_ is going to lead us to a motive, and tracking Hansom's last movements will lead us to someone with both the means and opportunity."

Rodney sat back. "Hansom was last seen entering the transporter on level five, close to his laboratory, three hours before they located the body."

"I need to see the surveillance from say, two hours before that, and onwards."

Rodney tapped his radio, contacting Lorne to make the request as the military handled security.

"What next?" Rodney asked.

"Next... I eat my turkey sandwich and drink my coffee."

Rodney thought about that for a moment. "Good idea!" And took a big bite out of his own sandwich.

***

This was the part of the job that John hated; going through hours of surveillance footage, admittedly at fast-forward, but he had time on his hands while McKay and his team looked over Dumais' notebook. He stopped the playback when he spotted Hansom's assistant storming out of the lab looking disgruntled less than a thirty minutes before Hansom stepped into that transporter only to turn up dead hours later.

The problem was that there was a time gap between that last known sight of Hansom and the estimated time of death given by Keller, of at least an hour. He also wondered why the remote sensors didn't pick up Hansom when he first went down to that abandoned Ancient laboratory. Something or someone else set it off over an hour after Hansom was already dead, triggering a response from Lorne's security officer to send Bonaji and Jannssen to check it out.

John had other questions too, and even though he had permission to approach anyone in the city regarding this investigation, all he could think of was McKay.

McKay was a lot like Holland - passionate about his work and dedicated to saving lives in his own way. They had that same intensity about them that drew John in though, unlike Holland, McKay came across as a little arrogant and even a little petty and vindictive if his argument back on Earth with Zelenka was an everyday occurrence. Except that seemed to be the default setting for a number of scientists on Atlantis, he thought, recalling the ones who had come through the Stargate with him hours earlier. One in particular had been memorable for the way he had insisted on being one of the first to step through - Kavanagh, he believed the man's name was. That was fine by John. It gave him a moment longer to probe that strange, welcoming sensation crawling gently through the back of his mind as he drew closer to the open Pegasus Stargate on Midway.

It was a stronger feeling than the one given off by the Stargate on Earth.

From what he had seen and heard of McKay so far, the arrogance and confidence in his scientific abilities was fully justified, and John kind of liked the way he could tease the man. McKay had a childish and socially awkward streak that spoke of an upbringing outside of his age group. It was likely that he hadn't played well with the other kids of his age because he was light years ahead of them intellectually. John had always managed to hide his own abilities, doing well enough to fall into that above average category, which meant he wasn't singled out for needing remedial schooling or considered genius material and pushed to excel.

That wasn't all that he had hidden at the expensive boarding school paid for by his media tycoon father. The school hushed up any minor indiscretions though, usually, boys who liked other boys tended to keep a low profile on their _extra-curriculum activities_. That was where John realized he had a preference, and it wasn't for the soft-brained, muscle bound jocks that caused all the other ' _girls_ ' to swoon.

McKay was just the kind of guy that John had always been attracted to: passionate, easy on the eyes, extremely smart - and knows it.

Yeah. Brains turned him on.

He smiled wryly at the thought because that was part of the problem. John didn't need any additional complications in his life right now, and McKay would be one of those high maintenance guys that needed daily proof that they were the center of someone else's universe. He had to admit that it felt good though, to feel something beyond the apathy and daily shuffle of his life since losing Holland and the skies. He felt renewed purpose, already knowing he had made a difference to the whole planet, even if none but a select few knew it.

He tapped the radio that Lorne's security team had fitted him with not long after setting foot on Atlantis.

"Sheppard to McKay."

"McKay."

"I need to go over a few things with you. In private," he added, and smiled when McKay sounded a little flustered.

"Um. Fine. Shall I... Eh... Come to your quarters? Or one of the briefing rooms?"

"My quarters will be fine."

"Give me a few minutes to complete... I'll be there soon."

John grinned openly. He'd always been strangely oblivious whenever women hit on him, but had never had any trouble spotting interest from another guy - and McKay seemed to radiate interest whenever they were in the same room. Yet, when he first met McKay, the man was wearing a wedding band, but John had noticed the paler band of skin where he'd removed it since then. He'd seen the slightly uncomfortable way McKay and Keller moved around each other, recognizing it from when his own marriage to Nancy failed, with each of them trying to be so polite. He guessed that neither of them had wanted to give up Atlantis so they were trying to work together.

It added another layer of complication because he knew his interest in McKay went both ways, and he knew they were both single. Except it didn't have to be complicated. As soon as he had solved this murder, he would be leaving Atlantis, and likely never seeing McKay again. Maybe it could be simple for a change. A few sweaty nights wrapped in another guy's arms, like one of those holiday romance novels that Nancy used to adore reading.

The crystal tones of the door chime called his thoughts back from flights of fancy, and he loved the way that the door opened with just a simple thought. McKay straightened up on the threshold, looking at John with a different kind of interest to the romantic, sexual one that John had just been thinking about. He pointed to the door.

"Did you...?"

"Did I... what?"

"Open the door without..."

"Sure. Isn't that the way they all operate?"

"No. Not for most people." McKay looked at him with his head slightly tilted as if examining him. "We need to check how strong your gene is."

"Maybe later."

McKay rolled his eyes, perhaps already realizing that ' _maybe later_ ' meant ' _not a chance_ ' in John's vocabulary.

"Lorne's men went into that area after the sensors indicated a presence."

"Yes."

"Hansom had already been dead an hour by then so why didn't the sensors go off when _he_ entered the off-limits area?"

McKay raised a finger and opened his mouth to say something but went, "Huh," instead. John smirked. Sometimes it was the blindingly obvious that got overlooked by the genius types trying to play detective. He opened the laptop that he'd brought with him and began tapping furiously while John watched over his shoulder.

"Well, I'll be..." McKay looked up, blue eyes wide and beautiful as they held John's. "The sensors were hacked..."

"Does anyone say _hacked_ anymore?"

He gained a glare. "...And taken offline for exactly one hour."

"Enough time for Hansom to enter the area following someone, or for someone else to follow him, kill him, and escape undetected by the sensors."

"Huh!"

"So who has the skills to do that?"

"Unfortunately, you're in a city filled with geniuses. I could name dozens, including Hansom."

"And your name would be at the top of the list," John added wryly.

"Obviously." McKay preened, and then realized what he'd just said, eyes widening in horror. "Not that I can take responsibility this time. I have an alibi-."

"Relax, Rodney. I've already taken you and Zelenka off the suspect list."

"You have? I mean... good. Good."

John ignored his slip of calling McKay by his first name, especially as McKay hadn't picked up on it.

"So what did set off the remote sensor?"

"We sometimes have problems with Pegasus style rats... and bugs?"

"I hate bugs."

"Then I'd advise you not to wander around some of the more damaged areas in the city... or in dark caves off-world."

John winced. "I'll bear that in mind."

Meanwhile, McKay was still pulling up records and reading through what looked like log data to see if he could find a pattern. Something caught John's eye and McKay nodded. "Yes. I see it."

In the past three months, the remote sensors had been taken offline eight times. John had a long suspect list and what he needed to determine now was if Hansom was responsible for those sensor glitches, or someone else. He had a strong feeling that the answer lay with the notebook he had discovered close to the body. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to hide it.

"Did Hansom have the gene?"

"No. He didn't have the gene naturally, and he was one of the fifty-two percent where the gene therapy didn't take."

"Then he couldn't have hidden the notebook. He needed the gene to open the door."

****

Rodney wandered back to his room to fetch Dumais' notebook with his mind in a turmoil. On the one hand they had a killer running around the city, and on the other there was John Sheppard. Both were unsettling him for very different reasons.

He had read John Sheppard's personal file from cover to cover and realized that Sheppard was another mystery because his above average grades did not match the sharp mind that Rodney had discovered over the course of both this and the previous investigation. Sheppard hid it well but his leaps of logic were outsmarting those whose I.Q. levels were supposedly much higher. It reminded Rodney of that movie about a janitor who was actually a math genius.

Sheppard had noticed small details that everyone else seemed to have overlooked. Admittedly, the murder had taken place less than 24 hours earlier but he'd uncovered more clues in his few hours on the case than even Rodney had put together since discovering the body. Part of that was Sheppard's detective training and real world experience, but the rest was gifted intuition that only came naturally.

What Rodney found both disconcerting and exhilarating was how well they worked together, bouncing ideas off each other that seeded those intuitive jumps in logic... in both directions. He hadn't felt this attuned to another person since Sam Carter, though sometimes Radek came very close. The difference was the emotional element. He'd formed a crush on Sam but her heart had already been spoken for by another, and though they worked exceptionally well together, his overtures for taking it one step further onto an emotional level had fallen on stony ground. Their personalities clashed, and though the sparks they struck off each other would have been exciting, it was not a relationship that could stand the test of time.

He'd made that mistake with Jennifer, trying to change his ways and his needs to match her ideal version of a husband, and making himself miserable in the process. It didn't excuse his adultery. Nothing could, and he regretted his weakness, but they had already been estranged at the time and Pyotr had been there offering all he couldn't have with Jennifer.

Radek was a good friend and colleague, and madly in love with Elizabeth Weir.

She had stepped down as the leader on Atlantis after they reestablished contact with Stargate Command, preferring to exchange administration for diplomacy, first contact, and studying the Ancient database. Although there was an overlap with the science department, Woolsey had decided on a command structure with himself as head of the expedition and with the personnel separated into four sections. Rodney was Chief Scientist, Carson was the head of Medicine, Elizabeth headed up what Rodney thought of as the soft sciences - diplomacy, anthropology, linguistics - and Colonel Lorne was the head of the military contingent based on Atlantis.

Rodney had noticed Sheppard and Lorne talking not long after Sheppard arrived on Atlantis, and they seemed to be getting along fine considering Sheppard was discharged from the same branch of the military in which Lorne still served. He guessed it gave them some common ground.

He realized he was avoiding the problem by letting his mind go off on a tangent.

Even before Sheppard arrived in Atlantis, Rodney was already thinking about him, making a conscious decision to remove his wedding band. John Sheppard was everything Rodney had always looked for in a partner, and all of it wrapped up in a handsome exterior. Realizing Sheppard was flirting with him earlier - unintentionally or not - Rodney had begun to consider making a simple no-strings proposition for the remainder of his stay on Atlantis.

What scared him though, was wondering if he'd be able to let Sheppard go when the time came for him to return to Earth.

He waved his hand over the sensor by his door, frowning when the door slid open but the interior remained in darkness. Usually the lights came on. Stepping inside, he caught a sense of movement as someone came out of the deeper shadows, raising his arm instinctively and crying out as something struck it hard enough to break bone. He fell, and by the time he twisted in search of his attacker, the room was empty and he mentally commanded the lights up full. Pushing up into a seated position, he took in the disarray, with compartments opened and furniture overturned. His quarters had been ransacked, and Rodney knew they could have been after only one thing - Dumais journal.

He scrabbled until his fingers closed around the radio that had been dislodged during the attack, replacing it.

"Jennifer."

"Yes, Rodney."

"I need medical... my quarters."

There was no answer for a second or two. "I'm on my way, Rodney!"

Rodney tapped the radio again. "Sheppard?"

"McKay?"

"I need you in my quarters... now."

"McKay? Rodney?"

"I'm..."

He pulled his broken arm closer to his chest, cradling it as best he could, and hearing the sound of running feet approaching fast. Jennifer must have called in Lorne as he was the first to arrive, closely followed by Sheppard who was only a few corridors away. Sheppard dropped down next to him while Lorne began issuing orders over his radio.

"You okay?"

"I think my arm is broken."

Jennifer chose that moment to arrive, dropping down on the other side of Rodney and running an Ancient scanner over his arm. "Oh, it's broken all right."

"What happened?" Sheppard asked.

"Someone was in here. I sensed the attack and raised my arm." He demonstrated with his good arm, raising it to protect his head.

"Lucky you did, or you could have ended up like Hansom."

The thought made Rodney feel nauseous, but the mention of Hansom made him gasp for another reason.

"Dumais' notebook!"

"Where?"

"There's a panel on the wall behind the desk, and a hidden compartment within it. I thought it would be safer here than in the lab," he added.

Sheppard moved to where Rodney indicated, and the panel slid open. The inner compartment should have only opened on Rodney's command unless overridden by someone with a higher clearance level, but Rodney wasn't thinking too clearly at the time. It only struck him when Sheppard pulled out the journal and grinned at him. The only other ATA gene carrier with the ability to make Atlantis dance for him was O'Neill. This meant Sheppard had a natural expression of the Ancient gene that was at least comparable to O'Neill's.

He definitely needed to get Sheppard tested. Any further thoughts vanished in a wave of pain as Jennifer placed a hand under his good arm.

"Up you get, Rodney. Let's get you down to medical to fix this arm," she said with a reassuring smile. "And leave Colonel Lorne and Detective Sheppard to sort out this mess."

"I'm coming with you," Sheppard replied, his tone accepting no argument from Jennifer or Lorne, and Rodney felt strangely relieved.

****

John watched as Keller fussed over Rodney.

He hadn't felt a similar moment of blind panic over another person since the radio call back in Afghanistan when he learned Lyle Holland was in trouble. Then he'd reacted without thinking things through, turning the helo against orders and heading back into a hot zone with passengers on-board. He could have dropped the soldiers off first at a safe spot only four or five klicks away but he'd let his heart overrule his head. The Taliban had taken out his helo with a surface-to-air missile, and he was the only one who had crawled away from the wreckage. Four soldiers dead, and another eight civilians killed on the ground.

The Taliban had let them find Lyle's body months later, but by then John was stateside, dishonorably discharged from the USAF and only missing out on jail time due to the behind the scenes pressure exerted by his rich father. John hadn't thanked his father for that, mainly because he resented him for interfering when he felt he deserved everything the military threw at him.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to go down that road again, but the fact that he was already referring to McKay as Rodney in his head proved that might already be too late. As a man with a gambling habit, he had always listened to Lady Luck, and she must have wanted their paths to cross. How else could he explain the coincidence of him being the lead detective on a serial killer case in Las Vegas involving an alien creature - a Wraith - when there were dozens of other detectives in Vegas, and hundreds of other cities out there. Perhaps it was some form of cosmic balance that every Sheppard needed a McKay, or vice versa.

Keller tried to settle Rodney into the bed, insisting on 24 hours observation as apparently, his head had bounced off the floor when he fell as well as gaining the broken arm. However, Rodney was having none of it, though he eventually agreed to rest for a few hours in medical and then in his quarters.

John waited until Keller was finished before approaching Rodney. He doubted Rodney had anything substantial to add to his account of what had happened when he returned to his quarters for the notebook but he had to ask nonetheless. Sometimes small details that might seem inconsequential at the time came back once the 'victim-witness' had a chance to calm down.

"Did you notice anything else about the attacker. Male, female. Anything different about them? Height? Size?"

"Smaller than me. Slim man or a woman."

John nodded. He was beginning to build a picture in his head of the attacker - and possible murderer.

"They wanted the notebook, so there has to be something in there that will clue us into their identity."

"Right." Rodney's eyes had widened at the remembrance and he clicked his fingers at John.

"What?"

"The notebook. Hand it over."

"And that's how you ask?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. Please will you hand over the vital piece of evidence that might catch us a murderer," Rodney stated sarcastically, but instead of annoying John, it lightened the serious spiral of his emotions.

"I'll accept that as a polite request," he returned with a smirk, earning an eye-roll for his trouble.

He watched Rodney wince as he opened the cover, aware that it was mental rather than physical pain. Dumais had died in the first year after a contagion was let loose that killed a number of scientists and soldiers before it had been contained. John could bet that Rodney blamed himself for every death then and since. He seemed the type to take everything personally, and to see each time they lost one of his people as a personal failure on his part.

John knew he could be back in Rodney's quarters looking for evidence but he trusted the forensics team that had arrived with him from Earth, to pick up anything and relay it to him, so he stayed by Rodney's bedside and watched the play of emotions across the other man's face. He saw the moment when Rodney moved from that shadow of guilt to scientific curiosity, and the moment when that changed to shock.

"What is it?"

Rodney looked across at him. "I've seen this before. Hansom presented this to me several months ago as part of his work on...." He trailed off and John had to bite back on an demand to keep talking, knowing he needed to wait for Rodney to get his thoughts in order. "Doctor Esallis came up with the original idea."

"Esallis? Hansom's assistant?"

"Yes."

"Oh god. In the review six months back, Hansom asked Esallis to step up their game or be shipped back to Earth."

"I take it Esallis has the gene."

"What? Oh. I don't know. Possibly. Jennifer can tell you."

"Rodney. What's the significance of this?"

"What?"

John indicated towards the notebook.

"Dumais died four years ago. Esallis presented HER work, implying that it was their own. Academically? Being discovered as fraudulently taking the work of others and misrepresenting it as your own is.... Reputations are ruined that way. Only recently, Malcolm Tunney was... struck off for stealing Jeanie's and my work on matter bridges to..." He waved a hand. "I expect you get the picture."

"Stealing work is bad." John didn't know who this Jeanie was but the analogy was impossible to misunderstand.

"Very bad."

"Then I need to have a word with Doctor Esallis."

John put in the call to Lorne, knowing he would put out the equivalent of an APB to bring in Esallis for questioning. Ten minutes later he got a message back.

"What do you mean you can't find Doctor Esallis on Atlantis? Where else could he be?"

John looked across at Rodney as they both listened in to Lorne's report. Apparently, the Athosians had gated off to fulfill a trade agreement an hour earlier, providing labor in exchange for crop seed, and Lorne believed Esallis had taken advantage of that to make their escape off-world.

"I'm going after Esallis," John declared, and Lorne noted and agreed.

****

Although Rodney was insisting on joining the mission, John knew Keller and Woolsey would never agree. Instead, John found himself being kitted out in military gear that he hadn't worn in a few years now. The expedition jacket and TAC vest felt strangely comfortable, and so did the P90 clipped to the front of his vest. He nodded as Lorne gave instructions, aware that Colonel Lorne would be in charge but knowing Lorne would defer to him as necessary.

John gave a half-welcoming smile as a giant of a man joined them, dressed in clothing that wouldn't look out of place in a Conan movie.

Lorne gave the necessary introductions. "John Sheppard. Ronon Dex. Ronon will be our tracker."

"Okay."

"Teyla Emmagan, leader of the Athosian people, will be waiting for us on the planet. As far as we can tell, the gate on Iridissia hasn't been activated since the Athosians arrived to help with the harvest, so Esallis is still on the planet."

"And you know this because...?"

"We ran facial recognition on those who left the city just over an hour ago, and placed Esallis hiding among the Athosian group."

"No offense intended, Colonel, but how did Esallis get by the initial checks?"

"We found one of the Athosians just off corridor nine."

"Dead?"

Lorne nodded gravely. "Everyone did a head count but not a proper check on the Athosians. Teyla is... upset."

John winced as he read between the lines. From what he knew of the Athosians, their civilization had been almost eradicated by the Wraith with very few of them remaining. To lose another of their people so senselessly would be a terrible blow to them. He had a feeling that if Esallis had still been among the Athosians, then Teyla would have meted out Athosian justice by now. However, it seemed Esallis had taken the first available opportunity to make his escape. No doubt he would be waiting for another opportunity to gate off to another world rather than face justice - whether Athosian or Atlantean.

"And Ronon?" he tilted his head to where the large, dreadlocks-haired man was checking what had to be an obscene number of weapons carried on his body.

"Satedan, and an ally to the Athosians and us. He's a former runner, saved by Doctor Beckett."

"A runner?"

"You know," Lorne stated. "There's a lot of history that we don't have time to go through right now. Just take it from me that Ronon is someone you want at your back in a firefight... and the best tracker I've ever seen."

"And you trust him."

"Implicitly."

"That's good enough for me, Colonel."

He watched as the wormhole opened, listening in on the exchange between Teyla and Lorne before following the others through. Stepping through from Earth to Midway, and then from Midway to Atlantis had not prepared him for stepping outdoors onto a whole new world. The colors of the sky and land were just a shade or two off of normal, and the people waiting for them were like characters from an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel, dressed in homespun cloth and leather.

A beautiful woman with auburn hair stepped forward and greeted them with almost ritual words of diplomacy, but beneath it John could see her dark eyes glowing with anger and loss.

"Teyla, I would like to introduce you to Detective John Sheppard. Detective Sheppard? May I introduce you to Teyla Emmagan, leader of the Athosian people."

Recalling all the lessons of his youth, John bowed his head graciously. "My condolences on your loss."

"Thank you. And mine to you on the loss of Doctor Hansom."

John politely inclined his head again. With the introductions over, the party moved onwards to where Teyla's people had last seen the person masquerading as one of their own.

The chase was on.

****

Rodney waited anxiously back on Atlantis for news after Sheppard joined Lorne on the hunt off-world. They had been gone for over two hours and he wished he could have gone with them but Jennifer wouldn't allow it even though the Ancient healing technology had worked wonders. Normally he would be looking at six weeks in plaster and months of physical therapy, but instead, his arm merely ached now with the bone already knitting. He would be back in the lab tomorrow and the cast would be removed in under three weeks.

He would still have a few weeks of therapy but Jennifer expected him to be ' _right as rain_ ' in a month.

While he waited for news from off-world, Rodney finished reading through Dumais' notebook and he realized what had made Hansom suspicious of his assistant. Hansom had known Dumais, working for her when they first arrived in the city. When she died, he had assumed her role as head of that particular discipline, and the most recent research idea put forward by Esallis had mirrored one of the paths he and Dumais had considered exploring together before her death.

Rodney recalled it had potential at the time but the whole expedition had made so many discoveries in those early days that a lot of ideas and theories were shelved for later.

It must have come as a shock to see those old ideas materialize and Rodney suspected that Hansom had given his new assistant the benefit of the doubt at first. After all, the probability of someone coming up with similar ideas under similar circumstances was actually quite high, but the more esoteric ideas and theories took a little more explaining. Once could be construed as a coincidence, but twice was stretching it beyond belief.

He realized Hansom must have followed Esallis upon recognizing Dumais' work, and seen where his assistant had hidden the notebook. He must have been on his knees trying to figure out how to access the sealed compartment without the ATA gene when Esallis came across him - and killed him to hide the ugly truth that most of Esallis' ideas had come from the lost notebook of a brilliant but dead scientist. At least Dumais would now get credit for her work, he thought bitterly.

Such a waste though, he thought. Two people had died over some theories, and if he hadn't acted instinctively following all those self-defense lessons foisted on him by Evan, Ronon and Teyla, then he'd likely be dead too. Instead, he was stuck here on Atlantis while Sheppard and the others hunted down Esallis and brought him back to stand for his crimes.

The thought brought him back to his last sight of Sheppard, recalling the image of him wearing the uniform and TAC vest. It brought back memories of that other John Sheppard, and the way he had looked at Rodney with both exasperation and... love? That Sheppard was back in his own universe with his own Rodney McKay, but Rodney had seen a reflection of that ' _caring_ ' in his Sheppard's eyes when he rushed into Rodney's quarters after the attack. Part of him hoped that it could become something more than simple caring, but he was also aware that Sheppard was only here to solve the murder, and once they had Esallis in custody, his job was over.

He glanced sideways as Woolsey joined him by the balcony rail overlooking the Stargate.

"Rodney."

"Richard."

"I wanted to hear your thoughts on Detective Sheppard."

Rodney turned to face Woolsey, staring at him for a moment while he tried to figure out Woolsey's motive. In the end he decided on an honest assessment.

"Could we have solved this without him? Possibly, given time. Eventually Esallis would have slipped up again when someone else recognized Dumais' work."

"Someone like you?"

"Yes."

Rodney looked away, aware that if Esallis had wanted to remain on Atlantis then a few more people would have ended up experiencing fatal accidents just so he could cover his tracks, and Rodney would have been among them. He was still surprised Esallis hadn't killed him in his quarters earlier, and perhaps he would have done so had he found the notebook.

It was obvious that Esallis had never expected anyone to find it hidden where he had killed Hansom, which reminded Rodney that he really wanted to have Sheppard tested for the strength of his ATA gene.

"Sheppard has the gene."

"Yes. I'm already aware of that fact."

"I'd like to test him. I have a feeling he could give General O'Neill a run for his money."

The standard warning sounded.

"Incoming wormhole. Colonel Lorne's IDC," Chuck informed them.

"Lower the shield," Woolsey ordered.

A small group of mostly military personnel stepped through, and bound between them was Esallis. Sheppard came through last with Ronon and Lorne, looking up and acknowledging Rodney with a half-wave of his hand. Rodney returned the gesture, feeling a weight fall off his chest and shoulders from knowing Sheppard had returned safely. He hadn't realized until this moment how much it had bothered him knowing Sheppard was off-world and perhaps completely unprepared for life in the Pegasus galaxy, having forgotten that Sheppard had once been part of the military and stationed in Afghanistan. In its own way, Earth was filled with a hundred different worlds and cultures, all trying to survive on the same small planet.

Earth didn't have the Wraith to worry about for now though - thanks to Sheppard.

Esallis glanced up and Rodney could read only resignation and bitterness in his expression, perhaps realizing a little too late that Pegasus offered little in the way of sanctuary for humans. He watched as Esallis was led away, waiting for Sheppard to climb the stairs and join him and Woolsey.

"Looks like we got your man. Though I could stick around a little longer. See if I can coax a confession out of him?"

"Unnecessary, Detective, but I appreciate all your good work."

"Then I guess I'd better go and pack." He nodded at Woolsey but his eyes lingered on Rodney.

"Perhaps I can... help?"

Sheppard smiled softly, nodding once more to Woolsey before turning and walking away. Rodney followed but both of them stopped when Woolsey called out.

"Detective? The next contact with Midway is not until midday tomorrow. Perhaps you can take this opportunity to see more of the city before you leave.

"I'd like that."

"Then I'll leave you in Doctor McKay's capable hands... hand," he corrected himself with a smile.

****

John settled back on the blanket covering the cold surface of the east pier and grabbed another beer from the pack. He pulled the tab, taking a long swallow as the beer foamed through the can's opening. Looking up at the night sky with two moons cresting the horizon, he still could not quite believe that he was in another galaxy in a legendary city thought lost beneath the waves. Though technically, the part about the waves was true according to Rodney; it had just not happened on Earth.

It was also hard to believe that a few hours earlier he had been running across a meadow and into a forest on a distant world, chasing after a killer. He thought back to that pursuit now....

Ronon picked up the trail quickly and despite keeping himself fit over the years, John found it difficult to keep up with the admittedly younger and far fitter Satedan. His only consolation was that no one else could keep up with Ronon either, though Teyla was almost as swift.

He'd hit it off with both Ronon and Teyla immediately, and he wondered if that was because he was a misfit within the Atlanteans too, being neither scientist or military. When John misjudged a leap across a brook, he found himself sliding down the side of the muddy bank and ending up with one foot ankle-deep in water. On the bank above him, Ronon roared with laughter and though Teyla had tried to hide her smile, John could tell she was amused too. He grinned back, accepting the teasing graciously along with the hand that stretched down to help him up the other side of bank. Lorne was stifling a smirk too but John noticed he took the leap across the brook extremely carefully to avoid the same fate as John. When Ronon stopped and crouched down, John took advantage of the small respite to strip off his wet sock, accepting a cloth from Teyla to dry his foot. Lorne had dug through his light pack and he threw a clean sock at John.

"I always carry spares," he stated, leaving John to wonder how many times Lorne had needed an extra pair of socks.

After putting on the sock, John grimaced as he pulled on the damp boot. He wrung out the wet sock and stuffed it into his own backpack, all the while, John kept an eye on Ronon, watching as he assessed the ground before fingering a fern-like plant.

"This way."

Then Ronon was off running again, and John ignored the way his foot was still squelching inside his wet expedition issued boot as he raced after both Pegasus natives and Lorne. He noticed the trail was on an incline heading up the mountain, and that made sense. Once they cleared the trees they would have a better view of the valley below. After leaving the tall pine-like trees behind them, the terrain became more mountainous. John was grateful when Ronon stopped for a moment as he needed to catch his breath. He sat down on a rock but dived sideways as a bullet chipped stone off the rock he'd chosen, taking cover as best he could. From the sharp sound in the clear air, he knew it was an Earth hand gun. Probably one of the 9mm guns that the military favored on Atlantis. 

John swore at his rookie mistake. Esallis must have stolen one or maybe even had one issued at some point. He should have checked that out before they headed through the Stargate. All his military training came to the fore as he took note of where his 'men' were positioned. Ronon nodded, head tilting towards the left while Teyla was holding position. A glance at Lorne saw him indicating his intent to go left. John gave the _OK_ sign and counted down visibly from three, leaning up with Teyla to lay down covering fire while Lorne and Ronon moved. He waited until they were all in position before calling out.

"Doctor Esallis. Why don't you give yourself up now before anyone else dies... including you?" 

He glanced across at Teyla. He knew so little about her and her people but if they were so few in number then she would have known the Athosian, Kessu, murdered by Esallis. Her people likely had their own laws governing crimes and punishment, and he would not be surprised if the Athosians laws were harsh due to the hardships suffered by most races in Pegasus at the hands of the Wraith. He didn't want to insult her but he could see an easier way out of this using a possible lack of knowledge against Esallis. John sent a silent plea of understanding to Teyla, hoping she would understand.

"Okay. So here's your choice. You throw down your weapon and come out now, hands above your head, and we escort you back to Atlantis to face indictment for the murder of Doctor Hansom and Kessu. Or..." He paused to give Esallis time to take that first part in. "Or I head back with Colonel Lorne and let you face Athosian justice. And you _really_ don't want to do that." John paused again. "You have to the count of ten."

John hoped Esallis didn't call his bluff.

"ONE! TWO! THREE!"

He smiled wryly when a hand gun clattered to the rocks outside a partially concealed cave mouth.

"Don't shoot. I'm coming out!"

John turned to Teyla with an apology on his face as Lorne moved in to zip-tie Esallis.

"I'm sorry."

Teyla inclined her head. "Apology accepted. The crimes were committed on Atlantis so it is your right to decide on the punishment."

"Can I ask?" He didn't finish the sentence, hoping Teyla understood nonetheless.

"The Wraith take so many that, for the Athosians, it is a grievous crime to take the life of one of the people. Until we settled on Lantea under the protection of Atlantis, we were a nomadic people by necessity. We did not have the choice of imprisonment."

"So he would have been put to death."

"Yes. He, or she, would have been secured in front of the Ring of the Ancients, and consumed by it when the great ring next opened."

John nodded, recalling the lecture about the wormhole engaging in a plume that destroyed everything in its path, which is why everyone stood out of range.

Having captured Esallis, Teyla accompanied them back to the Stargate, waiting beside him as Lorne dialed Atlantis. This time John watched as the Stargate opened, seeing how its deadly force could be used to carry out a death sentence quickly and painlessly, because it would be over before the brain had time to register any pain.

Teyla grabbed his shoulders before he could walk through the now open Stargate, and lowered her head. He recalled seeing her greet Lorne this way earlier and slowly brought their foreheads together. Obviously, it was an Athosian gesture of respect or kinship, though John wasn't entirely certain what he had done to deserve either so quickly. All he had done was what he considered to be his job - tracking down a man responsible for two homicides and the attack on a third person - Rodney.

"I hope we shall meet again under less tragic circumstances, Detective John Sheppard."

"I hope so too."

His thoughts returned to the present and John looked across at Rodney, seeing him in profile as Rodney gazed up at the strange alignment of stars. 

"Can you see the Milky Way from here?" he asked.

"Huh?" Rodney turned to face him. "No. I mean, yes, sometimes, but not at this time of the Lantean year."

Although he was glad they had caught the killer quickly, part of John wished he didn't have to leave Atlantis so soon. He wanted to know more about the people of Pegasus - people like Teyla and Ronon. He wanted the camaraderie he'd found with them and with Lorne. He wanted to know more about Atlantis and the Ancients who built her, and why he could still feel the city whispering at the back of his mind as if trying to tell him all her secrets. The city was beautiful, shining like an amazing jewel behind them, and he wanted to explore her.

Yet, more than that, he wished he could have spent more time getting to know Rodney. He still felt as if they belonged together somehow, as if they were destined to meet. Their paths had crossed in at least one other alternate universe, and even across alternate universes if he considered his alternate self meeting this Rodney. It couldn't be mere coincidence, and he wondered if them being thrown together was part of some cosmic balance.

He watched as Rodney settled back onto the blanket next to him, taking care not to jostle his arm. John leaned up on one elbow, looking down at Rodney, afraid that he might never see him again after returning to Earth. For all he knew they might have only this one last night, and that thought made him realize that he might get just this one last chance to be with Rodney.

Taking his courage in his hands, he leaned in further and pressed his lips against Rodney's softly, pulling away almost as quickly.

Rodney blinked up at him in surprise, reaching up with his good hand to brush at his lips with his fingertips. A smile straightened his otherwise crooked mouth as the hand reached out to caress the day's growth of bristles on John's cheek. John wished he'd taken the time to shave now but Rodney was still smiling as he encouraged John to lean in again. This time Rodney's lips moved beneath his, kissing him back. He felt the vibration of a satisfied hum of pleasure, and deepened the kiss, eager to taste the man beneath him.

After a long, pleasurable moment, he felt Rodney's hand on his chest pushing him away and John licked at his lips, a little confused as his body thrummed with desire.

"Not here. My quarters," Rodney ordered softly, and John sighed in relief because he didn't want this to end right here and now.

He pushed to this feet and offered a hand down to Rodney, helping him to stand before gathering up the blanket and beer cans - both full and empties. Before heading back, John stopped for a moment to take in the alien world surrounding him - from the strange night sky with its unknown constellations and two moons, to the city itself. He tried to commit the shape of the tall towers and beauty of the lights to memory, aware that this was all he could carry away with him back to Earth.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, Rodney."

John smiled and bumped good shoulders with Rodney as they made their way back along the pier to the nearest transporter.

Within ten minutes they were entering Rodney's quarters, which someone had cleaned following the attack earlier. The bed was larger than the one in the room assigned to him, and the sheets smelled fresh. John watched avidly as Rodney walked over to the bed, kicking off his shoes en route. He followed and sat on the side of the bed to watch as Rodney began to strip off his clothing, until Rodney stopped and stared at him pointedly.

"Unless you have some half-dressed, half-undressed clothing kink that wasn't on your very personal file, then I'd suggest you started stripping too, Sheppard."

"John."

"Huh?"

"If we're going to be doing this, then you can call me John."

"Oh." Rodney flushed a delightful shade that made his blue eyes stand out even more. "Okay... John." Those eyes hardened with desire. "Now strip, John."

John grinned, liking this bossy side of Rodney. It took only moments to shrug out of his clothing, heedless of where the items dropped as he was more intent on getting an equally naked Rodney in his arms.

He still had a slight buzz from the beer, though Rodney had remained sober due to the mild pain medication. John stroked a finger over the light cast made of a material as strong and durable as old-fashioned plaster but with only half the weight. If he hadn't already experienced alien technology in repairing his gun shot injuries then he might have been equally amazed at how quickly Rodney's injury was healing. It was as if the break had happened weeks ago rather than hours, and had to be one of the major perks of being a part of the Stargate program. He was still careful though as he pushed Rodney down onto the mattress and half-covered him with his own body.

His hand wrapped around Rodney's already hard cock and John groaned when Rodney grasped him in turn while kissing him deeply and hungrily, loving this first moment of discovery with a new bed partner. Rodney's mouth slid away, breath coming in short gasps of pleasure as they rocked and thrust into each other's hand, slowly falling apart as the sensations overwhelmed them.

John dropped his head onto Rodney's shoulder as he reveled in the satisfying pleasure of release. He tilted his head back up and kissed Rodney again, sweetly this time, savoring the taste and the thrum of sated lust. making do with a swift clean up, he let his heavy limbs curl up against Rodney and held him tight as they both drifted into sleep.

John awoke to the amazing sensation of a hot, talented mouth around his cock. He gave in to the simple pleasure, drawing Rodney back up to taste himself as they kissed before working his way down Rodney's strong body and showing him how talented he was in return.

All too soon he had to leave, and though they had no reason to hide their relationship, they shared a private, more intimate goodbye in Rodney's quarters before John headed to the Stargate with Rodney.

"I never did get around to testing the strength of your gene," Rodney whined. "Maybe you should stay a little longer so-."

Woolsey interrupted. "I'm certain they can complete those tests back at the SGC, Doctor McKay."

John said his goodbye to Woolsey, Lorne, Ronon and finally to Rodney, taking one last glance around the gate room, and then at Rodney, before he stepped through the Stargate to Midway.

Twenty-four hours later, he was back on Earth, waiting for a final debriefing before he was sent back to his old life.

****

"I told you not to touch anything."

"Well... I didn't think you meant the chief scientist," John replied, only to see O'Neill's eyes roll in a gesture he had probably picked up from the scientists, who seemed to have mastered the eye-roll from an early stage in their careers. Certainly Rodney had that gesture down perfectly.

John followed O'Neill down the bland gray corridor leading off from the gate room, up a flight of stairs and into a briefing room, ignoring O'Neill's wince at the reminder that John was no longer restricted by military regulations regarding same gender activities or fraternization. He was a civilian, Rodney was a Canadian citizen, and Atlantis was a galaxy away under civilian control. Though at least O'Neill seemed far less bothered by John's gender choice than some of the military officers John had served under during his career.

John suspected that the SGC screened its military to include only open-minded individuals.

While he waited the obligatory 24 hours on Midway, he'd had time to think about the other John Sheppard who had remained in the military, and he wondered where their paths had diverged. He had a feeling that the other John Sheppard had faced a disciplinary hearing too but obviously the charges had not been quite the same. If his trial had been based solely on disregarding orders, even including the death of the soldiers and civilians, then his defense might have pleaded him down to a loss of rank - probably Captain or even Lieutenant - and paying penalties. He would have been sent to a new station with a black mark on his record to see out the rest of his military career with no hope of promotion, and probably even encouraged to resign his commission.

John had a feeling that the other John Sheppard had not had the additional charge of homosexuality after a sweep of his quarters had revealed photos of him and Lyle in compromising positions. That was a show-stopper in this reality's military and it meant an immediate dishonorable discharge.

His father had likely called in a number of favors to seal that court martial record and have him released without serving time.

"Woolsey was very impressed with you. As was Colonel Lorne."

John raised an eyebrow as he took a seat opposite O'Neill, shrugging as he had nothing to say even though O'Neill seemed to be waiting for some response. The silence lengthened and John sighed softly.

"I was just doing my job."

O'Neill stood up and pulled two thick fleeces out of a closet behind him; he threw one across the table at him and John caught it.

"Put it on."

Confused, John stood up and pulled on the warm fleece, frowning as O'Neill gave an order over his radio. The world faded out and when it faded back in again, he and O'Neill were in a darker room facing a technician. O'Neill nodded to the man and John heard him say, "Commencing beam down," before the room was replaced with cold walls in an alien design.

The mind whisper was back and he felt a pull in one particular direction, almost reluctant to follow when O'Neill went that way. The place opened up into a beautiful room that reminded him of the towers and spires of Atlantis. Dominating the room was a chair, and John felt an incredible urge to touch it.

"Take a seat, Sheppard."

Sighing again, John debated on doing as ordered or just pretending to do as ordered, but the whisper of the technology had him curious. As he sank down into the chair, it reclined and glowed a deep blue.

"Where are we?" he asked, and was surprised when his question was answered by a holographic image shooting towards the ceiling. He recognized Earth instantly, before it pulled out to reveal the whole solar system, then the Milky Way, and his thoughts turned to Pegasus.

It was beautiful even as the stars turned from blue to red in a tide sweeping across a galaxy. Suddenly John understood the significance.

"The Wraith."

O'Neill grimaced again. "I'm the only other person known on the planet who can activate that chair without thinking too hard about it, and until now, the only one who could get it to do much of anything."

O'Neill leaned back against a console as two scientists came in to stare up in awe at the vision over John's head.

"Atlantis needs someone with a strong expression of the gene, and the expedition needs a civilian law enforcement presence." O'Neill paused. "And I can think of one more reason why you might want to go back," he added with a half-smile.

****

**Epilogue:**

The last time he stood on Midway watching the Stargate open to the legendary lost city of Atlantis, he had felt a flutter of unease partly from the whisper in the back of his mind, but also from the alien galaxy he was about to step into that had been devastated by the same creatures that had brought him to the attention of the SGC in the first place - the Wraith.

This time all he felt was anticipation and, yeah, happiness too.

Unlike last time, he didn't linger at the back and stepped right to the front of the small queue of people and equipment. On his shoulder he had a backpack containing what he considered to be essentials, and in the pallets behind him was the remainder of his few possessions, mostly items picked up in the few days he'd been given to make preparations for a long stay on Atlantis; new casual clothes, a few home comforts, his skateboard, surfboard and guitar.

Daniel Jackson had raised both eyebrows up at the surfboard but Atlantis was sitting on an ocean, and where there was water there were beaches, and where there were beaches, there were waves. All he had to do was convince Rodney to find him a Redondo Breakwater equivalent.

He smiled as he thought of Rodney, hoping he would be waiting for him on the other side of the Stargate,

"You have a go, people."

John stepped through eagerly, catching Rodney's attention immediately. Without waiting he walked straight to him, letting his rucksack slip off his shoulders and drop to the floor as he pulled Rodney into his arms and kissed him soundly.

As the shock wore off and Rodney started to kiss him back, arms tightening around him in turn, John thought he heard a whisper at the back of his mind saying, "welcome home."

END


End file.
